From Far Sands
by Tigress in da room
Summary: Nienne is one of the Litse'noore-the sand-kin. she has travelled from the East to the far West to see the Sea, something only told of in children's stories. she only plans to be there for a few days, but the noble Elf with blonde hair and a keen aim has caught her eye. but when the tides of war rise, can Legolas hold onto her, or will she disappear like the sand? Legolas/OFC
1. Chapter 1

From Far Sands: Chapter 1: Arriving at Mirkwood

Nienne raised her head. The rain was light, but it felt like ice against her whose skin knew nothing but the burns of sand. She welcomed the cool though. It had been one of the reasons she had travelled from the far, far East. She knew the rolling sands there like the back of her hand, but these deep and beautiful forests were new to her. Once or twice she had come across an oasis where palm trees danced and mosses grew across the cool rocks. Sometimes there were even trees that had broad leaves, and it was from a fallen broad leaf tree she had got the heartwood for her bow.

The weapon was slung across her back, and she had a quiver of brightly fletched arrows at her hip. She got a lot of questions about them, but she did not know the language here well enough to reply. She had journeyed for almost a year to reach this side of the continent, and the roads had been tough.

But Nienne was a wanderer, as all of her people are. But her wanderlust had taken her father than any Litse'noore had for many, many years. They were a curious people. Elves that had split off from the main race before they had called themselves elves. Their skin was either moon pale, or dark as ebony, and their eyes were either a fiery orange, or a beautiful crimson. They tended to be like the metals that her people drew their wealth from. Brown hair shone like copper, blonde glistened like gold. And only those of the noble blood had skin of metal too. That was why Nienne was so dearly missed. She shared the milky skin and coppery hair of those of the Eya't tribe. But because she was the chieftain's daughter, whenever the desert sun touched her skin, it shimmered the most incredible, pure gold. As if she was made of liquid metal. The trait was highly prized among the tribes, but Nienne refused to be married off. Her people had grown fat and complacent upon peace, and all of the men there were dull and slow. And none could hit a ruby from the top of a palm nut at half a league like she could.

The Elf was a princess. With her metallic skin, tumbling copper curls and bold crimson eyes that glittered like the rubies she was so fond of, to many she appeared as an abomination. But she also looked like a goddess. When she had set out on her journey, a few others had accompanied her. Mainly young men who did not want to grow fat and lazy like their fathers. There had been one other young woman, but she had become lost in the sand dunes and decided to return to her tribe early.

But Nienne had soldiered on. Her horse had nearly failed beneath her, but he too had pushed on. Now that the caravan of roughly ten was now past a terrible land, so much hotter even than the desert they lived in and had fire and brimstone rolling in the skies, they were tired and almost worn to a standstill. The barren mountains had been crossed. Now the travellers had arrived at a deep and dark forest. A friendly passerby had named it 'Mirkwood Forest', but Nienne had made sure her and her people were moved on before he could see their strange faces from beneath their hoods.

The path through the trees had been fraught with danger, and one of Nienne's men had nearly been poisoned by some terrible creature that roamed on eight legs. But a swift arrow from her quiver had met it, and the ragged group had moved on. Yet even in their rags, the golden thread of hems and the rich colours of fabric still shone with all the beauty of rare gems.

Nienne by now had a fair understanding of the language here, though she had not seen any of it's writing. She simply chose to move on before too many questions were asked. She did not wish to draw her curved blade against any of the people here. Now the path that had been in the deep pocket of the valley opened out slightly, and the low clustering trees became tall great pines that one of Nienne's men had attempted to climb as a joke.

One scraped pair of knees and one scraped pair of elbows later, the group came upon a set of narrow steps that wound up and out of the forest. Nienne was particularly glad to see this, as the friendly passerby had told of great steps, which led to great people. She had not understood the rest of it, but the steps boded well. So she urged her tired horse to begin the slow climb, and the caravan left the level of the forest and entered the layer of mountain.

But these were kind mountains, ones riddled with meadows and brooks and herds of deer that stepped delicately. Of course, some deer did not step delicately enough and wound up in the cooking pit, but Nienne's men refused to eat more than they absolutely had to, for they did not yet know from whom they were stealing game.

But the narrow little path wound about the high edges of the mountains, and the heat there was at a level just a little cooler than what the Litse'noore considered comfortable, so they made good time. Within a few days, the group came upon what looked to be a thriving city nestled in a green pocket in the mountains. Nienne had a suspicion that this was the city of Mirkwood, and that a King lived there. So before they arrived at the great gates, she made sure they were all wearing their finest capes and most beautiful jewels. This was still dull and threadbare by their standards, but to the guards who stood watch at Mirkwood they looked like visiting nobles, and opened the gates without demanding they remove their hoods.

The city was beautiful. It seemed to simply merge out of the mountain and trees, and the people here were Elves also, which greatly surprised Nienne and her band of travellers. She could see high above the clean and wondrous city a great sprawling palace that overlooked the place as if a grandmother looks over her playing children; with grandeur and elegance, but love and affection also.

Nienne left their tired horses in a pasture to graze and ready them for the journey once more. She paid for several rooms at a quiet inn, and she was greatly reminded of home in the dark, but softly candlelit building. It's high pitched roof that collected shadow was like that of the great mead tents that sprouted here and there in the desert, and the music and customers were bright and cheerful. Most of Nienne's men had taken to attempting to mingle with the locals, but only a few brave souls let their bright hair and metal skin free into the light. Nienne and her guard, Findecano. He was a great bear of an Elf, with the darkest skin of any of them, and bright orange eyes that burned with fire. Nienne knew that fire to be one of mischief, but to others it appeared as something more like anger.

She sat upon the bar stool, her tall form meaning that her slippered feet almost touched to the floorboards. She nursed sweet liquor that was almost like the favourite drink they made from palm nuts and red fruit back home. But it lacked the tint of spice she was after.

The bartender kept looking at her curiously, but the smile she always returned quietly with one or two lines of heavily accented Elvish seemed to be enough of an explanation for him. Findecano however, chose to remain silent.

Nienne felt somewhat at home though. Her men were getting drunk, as always, and the crowds were slightly fawning over them despite the fact the clothes they bore were little more than rags. She did not understand in great detail, but she could tell from the excited gestures and smiles of the local Elves around her that they were to get a very important visitor later. They waited a good hour, and the mead continued to flow, but no great fan fare arrived.

Nienne had noticed the man of great standing though. He had arrived as was gossiped about, but like a good King, he did not make his presence painfully known. Instead, he chose to keep his hood up much like the Litse'noore and Nienne was mortified when one of her men, enjoying the taste of mead far too much, clapped the noble upon the shoulder and laughed as if privy to some great joke. But her nervous sweat was uncalled for, as he simply laughed with him and told a joke of some sort that managed to transcend the language barrier that had been softened by alcohol. With her keen eyes, she saw the drunken man point in her direction, and she calmly sipped her drink. She noticed the noble begin to make his way over, long blonde hair becoming a little fuzzy in the heat of the inn.

But by then, Nienne had made herself scarce, and watched as a hunter watches a deer from the shadows as he picked up her abandoned glass and questioned the inn keeper. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that it was a rarely ordered drink, and the noble decided to try it. He only downed the dregs, but the stuff was so strong that it made the Elf splutter slightly.

Nienne smirked and made her way to her room. She and her people had been announced quite enough for one day.

Little did she know that the noble with the blonde hair had asked the innkeeper to find out her name. And whence she came from.

**AN: please don't hate, first LOTR fic. Set after the final film and book, but maybe I'll AU it so some of the characters haven't died. Just putting this out there to see if anyone cares, really, because ultimately Legolas is going to end up with this OC. But everyone seemed to like my Rise of the Guardians fic, and that revolves around an OC, so I figured it can't hurt ;)**

**Reviews welcome,**

**Tigress in Da Room**

**Ps: Litse'noore loosely translates to 'sand-kin' in Elvish.**


	2. Chapter 2The Evenings of two Noble Elves

From Far Sands: Chapter 2: The Evenings of two Noble Elves

Nienne remained ensconced in her shadow. As she watched, eyes glowing dimly, the noble Elf laughed with the bartender, and quietly left. If it hadn't been for the finery of his cloak, and the way he moved and held himself with grace, she might have been tempted to say he was just another citizen of Mirkwood.

But she remained curious.

He had left the inn though, and she moved back out into the throngs with ease. After making a few rounds to notify her tipsy men that she was hitting the hay, she made her way silently up stairs that creaked at the slightest touch and slipped down the various corridors until she reached the plain, but nicely painted, door to her room. With a touch, she opened the door and stepped out onto soft rugs. The room was plain but comfortable, and as all Elves have a habit of doing, the innkeeper had furnished his rooms with the best furniture and furnishings that money could buy.

There was a little desk, with a sizeable mirror, a fine set of drawers, a wardrobe that Nienne had nothing to put in, and a small double bed. She had been pleased to see that it was covered with a bedspread of her favourite colour, and the green quilt was soft beneath her delicate fingers. She sat upon the edge and undid the fine clasp that held her hooded cloak in place, setting down the small orange gem set in silver upon the smooth, dark wood of the end table.

She broke with her noble blood for but a moment, and hauled her slipper like shoes off and hurled them onto the floor with two gentle thuds. She flexed her cramped feet in the cool air and sat cross legged upon the cosy bed. She reached backwards and twisted just a little more than would normally be considered easy, even for an Elf, and tugged open the drawer of the nightstand. There she kept her hairbrush, some ink, a short quill and a tiny book of papyrus parchments.

Gently, she took the book, and fanned the creamy pages across the air. The scent of sand and good paper met her, and she smiled of the memories of home. She set the book open upon her lap and opened the dark purple ink bottle on the end table. She dipped her quill into the ink, and quietly began to scratch elegant letters and symbols into the paper. The sweeping curves and flowing lines barely registered as single letters, rather moving across the page as if they were a single unbroken line. Nienne wrote in her native language, and the shape of her near perfect handwriting was reminiscent of the dunes from whence she came.

She wrote of the journey, and the inn, and her and her men having a good time as the local wine and mead flowed. She also wrote of the nameless nobleman she had seen arrive, and down the last of her drinks. She was unsure as to what she should name him for the purposes of her diary, but in the end she settled upon referring to him simply as 'The Gentleman'.

Nienne refused to tell even the silent pages of her diary her insane curiosity towards him, but many years as a hunter, princess and dune-dweller had given her more than her fair share of patience. So she used the last of her ink upon the quill, and settled everything neatly back into the drawer before removing the hairbrush, which had an feminine silver back and short sturdy bristles made of papyrus thorns, and brushing out her long copper coloured hair.

It was near pink in it's purity of colour, and it shone in both this incredible tone and a more sedate burnt-gold in the moonlight from the circular windows. It took a long time to brush out all the tangles travel had put in her hair, but eventually the silky fine strands hung in gentle waves to her waist and she tucked it behind her pointed ears. She shed the rest of her clothing unceremoniously onto the floor, and then she burrowed beneath the covers of the quilt in her nakedness, and quickly and easily fell asleep as sounds of laughter and clinking of mugs echoed up from below.

~0O0~

Legolas, on the other hand, was restless. This was for several reasons; the stress of an upcoming visit from some noble Elves from the South, his youthful blood, a roaming hunter's soul, and of course, the mysterious group of men who had arrived earlier that day. As a prince of the Woodland Realm, Legolas had not missed their quiet arrival, but he had let them roam the city unhindered as any visitor would. He was curious about their leader though.

She had kept her dark green hood up, but the threads of gold in the hem and the few orange jewels she had either sewn into the fabric or about her person as jewellery marked her as someone of wealth. He had also noticed the great, curved sword at her hip and a slim dagger at her ankle. He was also fairly sure that he had seen a bow and some arrows tucked neatly away in the luggage of her horse. He was beginning to worry that he may have two sets of nobles on his hands.

But he shrugged it off, and continued to wander the quiet streets of his city. Thranduil, his father and the Elvenking, could deal with nobles. Legolas was thankful that all he had to do was stand and smile. The orbs of orangey light that spilled across the cobbled paths from magical streetlamps kept him company on his roaming, but he simply could not get the jewel-laden foreigners out of his mind.

Legolas once more let it fade; he had done all he could. He had asked the innkeeper to get their names, and purpose here, if he could, but the prince could tell by the low and rolling chatter that they held amongst themselves that they knew little or no Elvish he could understand. They had seemed friendly enough though, and he was under no impressions that they couldn't handle themselves.

That Dwarven Fire-liquor was no light stuff. Just the merest taste had made him splutter, and Legolas could take more alcohol than most Elves. And she had simply been sitting there sipping it as if it were milk.

He shook his head to himself hopelessly and turned back towards the palace set into the stone. Warm and comfortable chambers waited, and Legolas was tired. He too threw his clothes carelessly to the floor, and when he hit the covers, he was asleep almost instantly.

He dreamt of sand, and exotic dancers, and exotic wines and fruits, and jewels flowing as easily of water. And of course, he dreamt of the curious foreigners, and their even more interesting leader.

Both noble Elves slept with smiles upon their faces that cool night.

**AN: short chapter, and an ickle bit of back story stuff. Just trying to keep updates flowing here, but I promise some more interesting encounters in the next chapter.**

**Don't forget to review!**

**Tigress in Da Room**


	3. Chapter 3: Nienne Explores

**AN: Thanks to CissyDanger for being the first to review, you are awesome XD**

From Far Sands: Chapter 3: Nienne Explores

Nienne woke with the sunrise, as she always did. She stretched luxuriously in the golden sunlight, joints loosening. She brushed out her hair, and just spent a few minutes listening to the odd sounds here and there. Birds whose calls she did not recognise chirped outside, and there were quiet voices from downstairs.

She quickly dressed, making sure to wear her hood low, and silently made her way down the corridor. She reached the door where some of her men were staying and she gently rapped a knuckle against the wood. There were several mumbles and groans, and a few muffled curses, and Nienne could hear them arguing;

'Et's saaka miiri epe!' _someone's at the door!_

'Kei?' _who?_

'Nitasekepe Niete' _Probably Nienne_

'Astsukuu!' _Brilliant_

'Oahte' _amazing_

'Skiiikarlarah' _Wonderful_

Nienne smirked at their obvious sarcasm, and she called through the wood;

'Ut sikatahroh ninea kepe thrin'ahla!' _Up you get you lazy lot!_

There was a collection of muffled groans and grunts and ughs and Nienne thought she heard a thump as someone rolled out of bed. A shaky and uneven set of footsteps drew up, and the door opened to one of Nienne's older men, and his eyes were bloodshot. His head was bald, save for the streak of hair that he usually kept slicked back in neat spikes, and he was privileged enough among Elves to have some light morning stubble.

'Y ashatov ni'eck septthri' _that wine is deadly._

Nienne smirked and fondly rested a hand upon his shoulder.

_Have no worries friend, I only had some liquor. Light stuff, nothing serious._

He grinned tiredly; _good job too! I haven't had a hangover this bad in 50 years_

Nienne leant past him, and saw the other men dotted around the room either in states of undress, sleep or slumped awkwardly over various chairs. One had even managed to face plant into the carpet. She grinned at them, looking like sleeping children somewhat.

'_Well hurry up and sort yourselves out. I want to see the city before it's all a-bustle. I want everyone downstairs in half an hour, and for Eieppe's sake, wear something that isn't covered in alcohol!'_

She left them to their waking, and their quiet but rowdy laughter carried her downstairs. She had only just cleared the landing when her heart managed to sink and skip at the same time. She could see the Gentleman talking with the bartender, and after a few minutes, he left. Nienne promptly kicked herself for not going to meet him properly, but she then recalled that the Elvish spoken here was different to her own. So she continued down the creaking stairs, and she heard several more thumps and some arguing from upstairs as, from what she could make out, her men fought over rights to the ensuite bathroom.

Nienne left them to their quibbling and rested her arms upon the smooth wood of the bar. The landlord kept it neat and polished, and she could smell cooking eggs and meat. Nienne waited until the tender returned from the kitchens, and she asked in heavily accented Elvish for a light breakfast for her and her men.

'Sure thing ma'am, but might I first get your name?'

Nienne recognised the affirmative response, but she was unsure as to the last bit. Hesitatingly, she pointed to herself in question.

'Yes, your name please, if you have one!' he laughed

Nienne got his meaning and translated her name as best she could

'Nienne. What an unusual name'

Nienne was about to ask why he wanted to know, but before she could he left for the kitchens. She had no time to ponder this though, as her group of ten merry men came stumbling down the staircase, rubbing their eyes and holding their heads.

'_I hate to say it, but I told you so!'_ she laughed lightly.

They all waved their hands in dismissal and fell into chairs around a table as they waited for their food. Apparently a 'light' breakfast here meant a miniature feast, but Nienne's companions were more than happy to eat until their hangovers were soaked up.

Now considerably more clearheaded, the group of eleven left the inn, and made their way out into the quiet morning city.

~0O0~

At least, Nienne assumed it would be quiet. But apparently the people here rose a lot earlier than her own, and the streets were already crowded and noisome. The merchants were hawking their wares, and Nienne managed to pick up enough Elvish to order more provisions for their leave in ten days time, as well as pick up a few trinkets to take home. The shopkeepers did not recognise her unusual coin, but they accepted the bright squares willingly enough.

Nienne left her travellers to explore the city, and she decided to take a risk and let them take their hoods down. She dismissed Findecano, who seemed somewhat reluctant, but she knew he would be itching to see the artworks and crafts of the people here. As her companions dispersed into small threes or pairs, laughing, she marvelled at the way that this little corner of light and jubilation had managed to push back enough of the dark forest below to thrive. Though she had not missed the guards that stalked the streets, armed with made to order armour and various blades.

Though she was disappointed not to see any of them bear a bow and arrow.

So she left the noisy market streets, and made her way up into the wealthier part of the city. She knew she looked out of place, but was thankful for the few orange jewels she had sewn into her sash and the clasp of her dark green hood.

The elves she saw now were young, or perhaps a little older, and they all talked quietly and stepped with grace. Naturally, the Litse'noore princess matched this, and soon the word travelled to the palace that there was a strangely dressed noble roaming the city.

Legolas, who had been sitting bored at yet another of his father's feasts, perked up considerably at the chatter he heard. He instantly knew they were talking of the foreigners who had arrived yesterday, and he managed to fumble some excuse to leave the table.

Elvenking Thranduil smiled somewhat knowingly. He had heard the gossip of the one woman who accompanied the ten men, and he knew Legolas was curious. But he let his boy go, after all, he knew that if one teased cats they got the claws.

The prince threw his cloak about him and he ran out of the doors. He took great breaths of the clean air, thankful to be out of the stifling caves and passages. But he too kicked himself when he realized he had not stayed long enough to find out where about they were headed, so he set to combing the city.

He started at the market streets, and he saw a few of the exceptionally dark or pale Elves with their incredible and extravagant hair dotted amongst the crowds. He was thankful that no one had taken a disliking to them, and he asked the various shopkeepers if they had seen the woman that accompanied the travellers. None of the jewellers had had any strange women customers that morning, and he was surprised to find out that she instead chose to spend her coin at the stalls that sold fabric, raw gems, or weaponry.

'You should have seen her!' one excited merchant told him, 'I never saw her face, but she was the most captivating thing I've seen for a long time!'

Legolas agreed inside, but he asked the shopkeeper what she had paid with. He held out a little string on which there were 5 small squares of brightly coloured and stamped metals. It took him a moment to place them as coins, even if they were nothing like anything he had ever seen. He thanked the shopkeeper, and took the string of coins with him, jiggling the heavy metal as he walked.

He wandered for a few more hours, and decided to head up to the gardens. He wasn't expecting her to be there, but Legolas had always found the rich plant life there comforting and homely. So much more pleasant than the dark and oily forest below, he thought.

So the Prince made his way to the extensive gardens.

And Nienne remained where she had stayed, by a fountain in the centre of a ring of willows.

Neither had any clue that they were very soon to meet the other.

**AN: Yay annoying cliff hanger time :D a bit of a longer chapter, but I wanted to keep it light and funny for now, and explain a little more about Nienne and her travellers. Also, Legolas loses patience in the next chapter when he fails to find her. So far.**

**Reviews welcome,**

**Tigress in Da Room**


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting

From Far Sands: Chapter 3:

Nienne sighed contentedly. Though the waving fronds of leaves around her were nothing like the flat, broad leaves of the palms she was used to, the gardens were incredibly beautiful, and she turned her gaze to the sky, seeing shards of green light and drifting, twirling leaves.

There was a fallen twig on the soft grass beneath her feet, and she picked it up curiously. The wood was very supple and incredibly flexible, yet she struggled to break it. It was far too flimsy for arrows, but she wondered that perhaps the heartwood of this tree would make fine bows.

Nienne cautiously looked around, and then dropped the dark green fabric of her hood to her shoulders. The silky fabric rustled and fluttered in the light wind, and she shook her coppery hair out, fine strands glittering in the sun. It had blossomed in a fine, hot day, such as she was used to, and Nienne felt as if the world had slowed around her. She didn't understand why so few people were walking the gardens; they were one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

But as many of her thoughts did, this led Nienne back to the fact that she had no one to share this forest's beauty with. But then Nienne reminded herself of how lazy and pathetic all the men of her realm were, and she realized with lighter shoulders that none were worthy of her.

So she sat delicately upon the stone bench, mossy near the bottom, and drew her legs up until they were folded neatly beneath her. She rested her wrists upon her knees, and closed her eyes. It was as easy as it normally was for her to slip into the drowsy, half-minded state of meditation here as it was in the desert. But it was different, as instead of the sand tingling across her skin, she felt the feather light touches of falling leaves, and the elegant songs of various birds.

Nienne lost track of time, and for an hour at least she sat, unmoving, simply taking in the nature around her. So unaccustomed as she was to the sounds and movements around her, however, she did not hear the light footsteps approaching her.

~0O0~

Legolas was irritable. For the whole day, he had combed the great city, but he had not found the curious leader of the travelling nobles. He had scoured the streets, and several times he had bumped into the men who were chatting amongst themselves, or buying souvenirs from the craftsmen.

So he had found himself gravitating towards the gardens as he often did, and he shed his light cloak so as to feel the sun upon his face. Unlike most of the other Elves of Mirkwood, Legolas enjoyed these hot summer days. They made him feel drowsy and languid, and it was easy to forget about all the troubles of the world on days like this.

As always, he wandered towards the great willow in the middle of the gardens, and he remembered many years ago when lightning had struck the great boughs of the tree, and severed one of it's limbs. He had then gone on to forge his bow from the fallen heartwood, and it had not failed him since.

He walked down the paths with silent steps, and he was most surprised to see the very person he had been looking for, sitting cross legged upon a bench with her back to him. Her hair danced in the shifting wind, and the long back of her green robe brushed the floor. She wore things that looked like loose cream breeches, and her hooded cloak was made of the same dark green fabric as her robe.

Legolas was taken aback. Not by her beauty (though it was blinding), and not by her obvious wealth (though it was great). No, he was most enraptured by the way she had settled in as if she were completely at home. Her body was totally relaxed, and she looked to be at complete peace.

But little did the prince know that she was in fact taking in everything around her, and with no difficulty, she returned to her body from the limbo she had been drifting in, and gently turned around to face him, as if she knew he was there (which of course, she did).

Legolas stood for a moment, as if he was a deer caught in bright light. But then he remembered himself, and swept down in a respectful bow. He did not know her title, so he simply greeted her as:

'Good day to you, Your Grace. I hope you have been enjoying our fair city'

It was nothing like how he would have liked to greet her, but royalty had to be treated with protocol. She smiled, and murmured a few quiet phrases in her language. She then rose from her seat, and unlike any normal princess would, she gave her own bow, and nodded respectfully. She struggled a little with her words, but without stumbling, she managed to say;

'Good day to you also. I am Nienne Eya't'

Legolas took her hand warmly, and firmly shook it. Nienne did not fully understand the gesture, but she understood his meaning. He gestured to the winding path ahead of them, and offered his arm.

Nienne blushed ever so slightly, which Legolas thankfully did not notice, and she settled her arm in the crook of his elbow. She had heard of the gesture in children's tales, but never had it been offered to her.

And so, Legolas led her off, and deeper into the gardens. As they walked, Legolas questioned as to her purpose here.

'I can see by your fine dress that you are nobility, but my father had not told me there were to be two visits'

Nienne smiled sheepishly, and plucked at the soft fabric of her green robe. The front and back were both as long as her cloak, though there were slits up each side to allow free movement of her legs.

'These are not…ah…fine. By my people's judgement, these are nothing but…rags'

Legolas blinked in surprise. He had not seen fabric so fine in all his years, or jewels sewn as neatly into garments as those that she wore. Nienne continued though, and she would not meet his gaze when she said this;

'But my purpose here…'tis not really a purpose. Just something from children's tales'

Legolas was now greatly intrigued, and he replied;

'I have always been a lover of legends and tales and all their myths. Indulge me'

'Well…my realm lies off the far, far East. I have journeyed for a year to reach this place, and we still have far to go. Me and my men are here, good sir, to see the _Il'yeppe Natiyaar_, the Great Water'

The Elven Prince was taken in by the brief phrase of her native tongue; it was low and smoky, yet also rumbling and silky, moving through the air as one sinuous sound. It took him a moment to place her phrase as the sea, which he himself had only visited a few times, the last a good hundred years ago.

'Ah. I know the place of which you speak. It lies about 50 leagues from here, to the West. I myself have only been a few times. If you would like, I can escort you?'

Nienne looked sharply at him, and Legolas was confused by her state of apparent shock. But as all royals can, she masked her emotions well, and smiled warmly.

'That will not be necessary, but I would not mind if you chose to journey with us for a while. Our time in this part of _Ala'rah _is nearly over, and within the month we will begin our journey back to the dessert. We plan to remain here in Mirkwood for one more week, and then move out. Will you journey with us?'

Legolas marvelled at how easily she had flipped his request back on himself, and he nodded.

'I would be most honoured to accompany you, Nienne. But may I ask, what is your ranking?'

He used a term that she was not familiar with, but she understood his question.

'I am the Chieftain's daughter. What your people would call a "princess"'

'Well then, Your Highness, would you like to visit the range? I have noticed you carry a bow like myself, and I was wondering if perhaps you would like to shoot a few bolts with me?'

She smiled properly now, an impish, blinding grin that was very un-ladylike.

'But being of high blood like myself, do you not have other engagements?'

Legolas waved a hand nonchalantly, feeling at ease in her presence

'Oh, my father Thranduil takes care of most of such things. He knows I have a…how shall we put it…taste for adventure'

'I look forward to seeing your archers, sir, but first, tell me, how are you called?'

He smiled warmly, and said;

'Legolas. My name is Legolas'

The sun was bright around them as Nienne let herself be led to the archery range. As they made their way through the gardens, in no hurry, Legolas continued to ask her about her land;

'Oh, it is an incredible place. Sand dunes as high as mountains, and oases so beautiful they glitter. There is much more to say that cannot be described in your language, and even more that cannot be described with words at all. It is a land of seeing, and feeling, and listening. So quiet that you can hear voices from miles away, or the gentle drift of the sand. Put simply, it is stunning'

Legolas' eyes had gone incredibly wide, and he looked just as he had when he was but an elfling, being told stories of the Dwarven fire mines, and terrifying dragons, and the little people who lived in neat, round holes and smoked pipes.

Nienne was given a light heart by his look of wonderment and surprise. She was never much of a story teller, but it was interesting for her to see the real Legolas, and not the one who had to simper and smile through his teeth as all royalty often must.

But then the moment was gone, and Legolas remembered himself. Thankfully they had arrived at the range though, and now it was Nienne's turn to look like a child on Mid-Winter's Morning.

She let go of his arm, and walked swiftly up to the enormous targets, woven tightly from bright straws and grasses. Legolas called to her:

'How far will you shoot from, Miss Eya't?'

She grinned wolfishly, and replied;

'As far back as possible! One must remain in practice, am I correct?'

Legolas was surprised by her confidence, but he showed her the far wooden wall of the range, a good half-mile away.

Nienne nodded in satisfaction, and drew her bow from her back and began polishing the wood with the edge of her robe as they walked. Legolas marvelled at the weapon; instead of being one great, sweeping curve like his own, the grip was straight and cast from what looked to be pale green glass, and the arms of her bow swept back very far so the corners after the grip were almost at right-angles. The wood was a gleaming, dark red, and it was strung with a bright white string that looked like hair. It was almost as tall as her, but when they arrived at the far wall and Nienne began stretching her bow, she had no trouble drawing the incredibly strong string.

Legolas stepped back, and waved a hand, allowing her to shoot first.

Nienne smiled in thanks and then dropped instantly into a state of concentration Legolas had not seen on another archer's face before. She drew a great arrow from the quiver at her hip, and knocked the bright fletching to the string. She kept the bow low as she drew the string back to the corner of her mouth, and then raised the pale glass point of her arrow to the air. She took several deep breaths and then remained stock still.

The wind rustled in her hair, but still she did not move.

Then, as suddenly as a great volcano erupting, she loosed her arrow and it hissed through the air. There was a quiet thunk as it hit the target, and Legolas shaded his eyes against the sun. Even for an Elf, at this distance he could not see the rings of the target, but he saw the bright dash of her arrow's fletching, and he could not believe she had got a bulls-eye straight away.

But Legolas knew he was the best archer in all of Mirkwood, if not Middle Earth, so he drew his own bow and arrow, and looked sideways at Nienne as he drew the bow.

'I hope you did not want this arrow, Nienne'

'Why?'

In answer, he loosed his own arrow, and promptly split her own straight down the middle.

Wordlessly, Nienne knocked another arrow and loosed it immediately, quickly followed by three more. She replaced her bow, and arched an eyebrow, inviting Legolas to scrutinize the target properly. She walked silently with him, and laughed at his look of wonderment to see that she had split his arrow, and then each of her own cleanly down the middle so that the halves were splayed out like a great palm.

Legolas smirked, and then decided to see how hard she had hit. He firmly gripped the base of her first arrow where it had entered the target and pulled. When it didn't budge, he braced his leg against the wooden leg of the target and pulled harder.

When he still could not remove her bolt, Nienne quietly grasped the arrow the same way he had, and with a tiny twist, pulled it, and all those embedded within it, out with ease.

Legolas felt a shameful blush rise in his pale skin, but that thankfully was when a group of Nienne's men arrived at the entrance and shouted and waved. Nienne called back to them, and took off in a light jog after them. Her shooting had said enough.

So it was a surprised, and slightly embarrassed, Legolas that returned to the palace that day.

**AN: Long time, no update, I know, but it was hard for me to get this chapter out. Next one will be more interesting though, I promise XD**

**Reviews welcome,**

**Tigress in Da Room**


	5. Chapter 5: Proper Introductions

Chapter 5: Proper Introductions

Nienne felt light-hearted and mischievous to leave Legolas as she had. A small part of her did not want to leave his presence, but then again, he was most likely confused by her and her various idioms.

Nienne let her men take her on a wander through the city, and she noticed how a couple of them had fair Elf-maidens on their arms. She smiled indulgently at their antics and made sure that they knew to tell the young women they were not to stay in Mirkwood for much longer.

Legolas, on the other hand, was left stunned and a little embarrassed, and exceptionally confused. He had found Nienne's company easy and light but mischievous and mysterious as well. He cradled the bunch of spilt arrows in his hands as his thoughts wandered.

He and Nienne had not been alone however. Thranduil had been watching the proceedings from one of the various watchtowers dotted around the city, and his keen eyes had missed nothing. He quietly strode down from his perch and approached his son, who was looking most out of place for once in his life. He laid a hand upon his shoulder, and was surprised when Legolas jumped.

'Ada! Do not scare me like that!'

'Perhaps if you paid more attention to your surroundings you would have noticed me'

Legolas' face immediately became guarded, and he turned the arrows over in his hands slowly as he asked;

'Why? How long have you been watching?'

Thranduil smirked indulgently.

'Long enough' he said

Legolas sighed, and wondered if his day could get any more confusing.

'Ada-'

'Ion. I will have none of your chatter. I will judge her tonight; I have already sent messengers to tell her she is invited to the Midsummer's banquet. Then we shall see if she is truly the princess she claims to be'

Thranduil did not raise his voice, but Legolas grimly recognized the steel in his father's words. Now more worried than anything else, Legolas made all haste back to the palace to ready himself for the banquet.

In the curious sand-elf's presence he had completely forgotten about the feast.

~0O0~

After a few minutes touring round the city streets, Nienne and her men steered each other back towards the inn, and when they got the nice round table by the window, Nienne ordered mugs of mead for all her men and there was much merriment. However, it appeared that it wasn't only Thranduil who had been spying.

One of the younger men, who happened to have a taste more his own gender than women, flicked his golden hair from his fair face, and with his chin in his palms like a little girl, asked sweetly;

'So…what was he like?' his wide blue eyes were completely innocent, but Nienne knowingly scowled from over the top of her mug.

'By the sounds of things you seem to have seen enough to make your own judgement, Arron.'

'Well if I were to have my way with him, I would already be wearing his undoubtedly jewel-bedecked underclothes-'

A chorus of friendly groans of disgust crossed the table and Nienne smirked.

'And how would you know they are covered in jewels? For a fact I know that they are woven from the finest spider silk!'

The rest of her men adopted the same false-innocence pose and asked with various forms of 'pray tell!' and 'do you now?'

Nienne settled her mug on the table and fiddled with the edge.

'Well if I was to have my way with him, Arron, none of you could look forward to well made beds tonight'

They all 'oohed' in mock surprise, and Nienne spat at them none too kindly to shove off;

'_Has alarhaa! Ou thiktet nahalla ik ta hasts ik oo'ahrey!' be quiet! You know nothing of the hearts of royals!_

Arron pouted in mock hurt, and healed his apparent woes with another swig of mead.

'Do not fear, Nienne. One would have to be little more than a drift-wyrm to _not_ like the young master. What is he called by anyways?'

Nienne smiled indulgently to herself, remembering exactly how he had rolled the syllables.

'Legolas. He is called Legolas'

Findecano, who had up until now remained silent, quietly put in;

'I know enough of this language now to tell you it's meaning. It means Leaves of Green, or Greenleaf, and it in particular refers to the vibrant shade that willow leaves turn in bright summer sun. Your prince is the epitome of the summer, _Ahreyaa_ Eya't.'

Deciding her men had heard enough gossip from her, Nienne downed the last of the sweet mead and stood from the table.

She brushed down her robes and stated;

'Then he should be more than capable in the heat of my bed, my friends'

Nienne did not say this seriously, but her men all still laughed and there was much thunking of tankards and laughs of merriment as she quietly left the inn. The sun had dimmed somewhat now, and was but a pale wash of yellow through thin clouds. The summer evening was stretching in, and it had cooled a little since Nienne's time at the range. She wandered the streets for a while, simply taking in the beauty of a culture so much different to her own.

However, a guard from one of the watchtowers spied her amongst the sparse crowds, and with a wave he bid her to wait. He wore the finely tooled leather armour of Mirkwood's soldiers, and he carried a dual pointed spear. He leant on the smooth wood so as to catch his breath while he told her his appointed tidings;

'Miss, please, I beg of you but a moment. I bring news from the Elvenking's palace'

At this, Nienne perked up considerably, and her pink-ruby eyes brightened in the shadow of her hood, glowing dimly.

'Thranduil, son of Oropher, has bid me to invite you to this evening's Midsummer's banquet. There are other nobles visiting, and he wishes his son to have company. You are free to bring one or two of your companions if you wish'

Then the Elf man bowed, and quietly walked away on his rounds, boots clicking on the cobbles.

Nienne smirked to herself as she all but flew through the shadowing streets back to the inn.

_So he wishes a war of words does he? I shall show him that sand is not the same as dirt!_

Nienne slipped into the sleepy inn, and her men were now conversing quietly, happy with their day and not too much alcohol. She waved over to Arron, and his white skin creased with the wideness of his smile. She also called over Findecano, who was much more reserved about hearing the news but clearly no less excited. After having heard the invitation, Arron rushed up to his room to "braid the blossoms of moonlight into his hair" and Findecano also made for his room.

Five minutes later, Findecano returned, and he wore a sleeveless robe of pale blue, split down each leg the same as Nienne's, and also the same cream coloured harem pants. His boots had been shined, and as was customary for the guardians of _Ahreyaa, _he had his long greatsword slung across his back. After half an hour, Arron returned, and a youthful crown of filigree gold was set upon his fair brow. He wore a loose yellow robe the shade of mellow morning sun, and the hem dragged upon the floor, hiding the dainty and almost feminine slippers she knew him to be wearing. The long sleeves also touched the floor, and both men looked resplendent, although one was powerful and majestic, the other youthful and innocent.

Nienne then took her leave and quickly left to don the long bolt of bright fuchsia fabric she carried in case such an occasion arose. She wrapped the fabric loosely about her ankles, winding it round her body, getting tighter as she went. She flipped the loose end over her shoulder and let it trail across the floor behind her, and she wrapped the threads of her sandals up her legs carefully. If one wore a dress with a slit going up to her thigh, the strings of sandals must be tied neatly for it will be on show.

She piled her hair up onto her head, and set it in place with a silver comb, though it looked like a small tiara, set with three opalescent white gems. She fastened a silver filigree necklace, also set with white gems, about her neck, and linked a little silver chain from the part of her ear where it was pierced to just below it's point. She jiggled the cuff a little so it would not tug at her ear, and then dabbed fresh rose water across her collarbone.

Though she was a warrior, it felt good to dress up once in a while.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, and turned to and fro a little. As she wished it to, the slit up the side of her dress parted silkily and exposed her pale skin beneath. Her pink-copper hair shimmered, and her eyes appeared even larger, having been smoked out with kohl. She walked silently across the wardrobe, and pulled open the teak doors. She took the only thing that resided within and went back to the mirror.

She had carried the sword all the way from her journey, and was thankful for having decided to pack it at the last minute. She slipped the narrow, loose belt around her waist, and the great long sword almost touched the floor. She drew the blade, and it hissed in the air. It was made of polished and sharpened desert glass, clearer and more silvery than morning dew, and was stronger than even the fabled Mithril that the dwarves drew their wealth from. There were three gems set into the glass, and Nienne knew each represented three traits every warrior must show.

The red ruby represented strength drawn from immeasurable rage.

Orange represented courage and valour in the face of certain danger and death.

And pale, almost clear white represented humility, wisdom and pride.

And also the lack of mercy.

Nienne flicked the blade round in a quick circle, and it was perfectly balanced in her hand. The little tassel at the end of the handle danced in the candlelight. She settled the blade back in it's simple reed sheath, and Nienne was complete. Before she had looked like a princess of un-attainable beauty; now she appeared as striking, merciless goddess of war.

_Let's see what is made of this_ she thought mischievously.

She made her way downstairs, and both men's reactions were exceptionally entertaining. Young Arron's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and Findecano's usually neutral face bore raised eyebrows.

'Shall we proceed?'

The Elves nodded dumbly, too awestruck to speak. As she had seen other Elf women here do, she settled herself on Findecano's arm lightly, and as they walked upwards towards the palace in the bold sunset light, Findecano commented simply;

'_Ahreyaa_, you look awe-inspiring'

Nienne smirked and said equally simply;

'That was the point. The royalty here is looking to find fault, pass judgement. I am not giving them anything to pick upon that is all'

Though Nienne made sure she looked calm, collected and almost arrogantly confident, she was actually very excited about the feast. She was curious to see how the Elves here celebrated, but she was most looking forward to the game of dagger and cloak and twice said words.

They drew near to the palace, and the few people around them were dressed in flowing robes or dresses, and they wore beautiful jewellery upon their brows and fingers. Nienne noticed several, if not all, pairs of eyes following them discreetly to the steps of the palace, and as was customary for an _Ahreyaa's_ _Hest'ek_, Findecano let her drift from his arm to lead on up the steps.

Nienne took the opportunity perfectly, and her strides were long, slow and bold. She was the epitome of power, and the guards at the great wooden doors almost felt a quake of fear at her unknown mannerisms. To them, it seemed as if she may burst into destructive flame at any moment.

She stood by the doors, managing to look both infinitely patient and disdainful at the same time. Findecano arrived by her side first, and then young Arron, who she had noticed had begun to let his excitement get to him.

'Arron. Do not forget yourself. We are here as ambassadors for our people, our realm. Try to take deeper breaths, _yk fr'aa, _you look as if you will be flying with the moon doves any moment.'

Arron swallowed once, and stood taller. Nienne felt his breaths slow, and she noticed that he settled into the same reserved, dignified pose reserved for such gatherings.

Nienne heard sweet harp and flute music stir from within, and as the notes rose and fell, the guards opened the doors and allowed them and the other guests to enter the great entrance hall.

~0O0~

Legolas was exceptionally nervous and curious at the same time. The consequent jittering in his stomach made him feel quite sick, and the prospects of his father looking for any little sign or slip in decorum from either he or Nienne made everything entirely worse. He stood over in a corner, fiddling with the collar of his robe in such agitation that Haldir, who had arrived from Lothlorien the day before, had resorted to doing up the offending button for him and giving him a tall flute of sweet mead to ease his nerves.

'My word, Legolas. I have never seen you so out of yourself before today'

Legolas cast a slow glance over his shoulder, surveying the situation which could turn on a pinpoint.

'I have never been so out of myself before, good Haldir. There are two important sets of nobles arriving for the feast, I detest these gatherings anyway, and my father is also watching like a hawk to make sure I don't make a fool of myself any more than I have already'

Haldir frowned slightly at him in worry

'Whatever did he catch you doing? Did you talk of the Fellowship to the young guards again-'

'No! I did nothing of the sort. But I suppose you have either seen or heard tell of the ten men and one woman arrived earlier from lands unknown?'

'Yes-'

'Well she happens to be their leader, something equal to a princess I believe, and I was stupid enough to challenge her to a test of aim-'

Haldir's frame tightened in panic, afraid someone would hear them.

'What? You challenged her to test herself against your aim? And you didn't instead take her to the palace?'

'No but-'

'Oh sweet Nimrodel Legolas! At least tell me this; out of your idiotic archery competition who won?'

Haldir now cradled his head in his palm, and Legolas' heart had quickened at the memory of the archery before. He told himself it was just the instinct to feel the quiver of the bow. The thrum of the string. The curves of her bow and body-

'Legolas!' Haldir was snapping his fingers quietly in front of the dazed Elf before him, and Legolas returned to his mind with a startle. He turned in suspicion, and sure enough, Thranduil was watching from the other side of the hall in a mixture of amusement and warning.

Legolas began to fuss with his collar once more, and Haldir swiftly batted his hands away from the buttons. As Legolas attempted to find something discreet to busy himself with, Haldir began to get increasingly worried.

And just as he was about to cuff the prince before him to pay attention to himself something both terrible and great happened.

The immense wooden doors creaked open.

Nienne and her companions had arrived.

**AN: Long time no update, I know. But I found this chapter a little hard to get out, but I promise, more interesting in the next one :3**

**Reviews welcome,**

**Tigress in Da Room **


	6. Chapter 6: Passing Judgement

From Far Sands: Chapter 6: Passing Judgement

Nienne strode into the hall with immeasurable confidence. Her bare feet were exposed by the string-like straps of her sandals, and the slit up the side of her dress parted with each step. Arron and Findecano followed behind, Arron looking quiet and awestruck, Findecano tall and suspicious.

Nienne panned her gaze across the room, and when her gaze met Legolas' owlish one, she nodded with a little dip of her head and allowed herself a small, discreet smirk. Once her gaze had moved on, Haldir finally dealt Legolas the cuff he thought he had deserved earlier. And then her gaze settled upon her somewhat-enemy: Thranduil, the Elven-King.

He said a few words of parting to the Elves he had been keeping company with, and made his way briskly towards Nienne's group. Arron's leg twitched beneath his gown, and Findecano's bright amber eyes grew guarded. Thranduil looked just as resplendent as them however, and Nienne knew in that instant she had failed to stun with their dress, though she may have impressed him a little.

'Nienne Eya't. It is a wonderful thing to finally meet you'

'The same to you, Elven-King. Sands be bright upon you'

Arron sniggered ever so slightly: it was actually the Litse'noore equivalent of 'go fuck yourself'. Findecano had grown even more suspicious, and a small line settled between his brows. In a quiet, but deep voice, he said:

'With all due respect, Elven-King, that will be _Ahreyaa _Nienne Eya't to you'

Thranduil took the insult easily, and smiled a dazzling smile. Nienne struggled to trust him, but she knew he was not evil of heart.

'Forgive me, Ahreyaa. You must understand that neither we Elves of Mirkwood or Lothlorien have met your people before'

'We are in the same boat then'

She held his searching gaze for just a few seconds more than was necessary, ruby eyes twinkling with the allure of Thranduil's challenge. She dropped him a flick of her hand, the Sand-Elven equivalent of a curtsey, and Thranduil at least managed to understand that. He bowed in return, nodded politely to Arron and Findecano, and then left to talk with another group of arrivals.

Nienne, now relieved for having survived the initial judgement, quickly moved over to where Legolas and Haldir had been watching with apprehension. Haldir was the first to speak, and he was more easily trusted by the three people of the sand.

'Congratulations, Ahreyaa. It is not easy to duel the Elven-King and get him to agree to a truce of words. I am Haldir, March warden from the North border of the forests of Lothlorien'

'Pleased to meet you, March warden. This is Findecano Eya't, my Hest'ek, and this is Arron Isiik, one of my band of travellers'

She struggled a little with forming her sentences and pronouncing Haldir's title, and she hated it. It made her feel weak. By now, Legolas was used to her awe-inspiring appearance, and he had managed to keep his blood from rising unbidden, so he was a lot more at ease. Already, he had completely forgotten about Thranduil's passing of judgement.

They talked quietly for about an hour or so, and Nienne was enchanted by Haldir's tales of Lorien.

'I should like to visit sometime, if we would be welcome. Perhaps we can pass through on our return journey.'

'I am sure the Lord and Lady would love to meet you and your people also. And I am of no doubt that the reception would be a lot less…prickly'

For at that point, Haldir had noticed, or rather felt, Thranduil's gaze boring into their backs.

And Nienne had not been idle either. She had kept most of her tales secreted away, only answering questions pertaining directly to her or her two guests. Haldir had asked to see their blades drawn, but she was reluctant and declined, for the rare desert-glass would shine so brightly that it would draw all eyes. And it was not yet time for that. She had also noticed Arron making shy glances with another young Elf, who had dark brown hair, and bright, keen eyes. She could tell by his glances he was curious, but his father was reluctant to let him over.

'Legolas?'

'Hmm-yes?'

'Are there any other notable Elves here?'

He looked around briefly, and nodded.

'Yes. There is Haldir, and two courtiers from Lorien, and Elrond and his two sons from Rivendell'

She quickly matched up Haldir's courtiers, for they had the same pale hair as him, which left the dark-haired Elves as Elrond and his twin sons.

'What are his sons known as?'

'I do not know them well, but I believe they are Elrohir and Elladan'

Nienne followed his gaze, and met the young Elves' startled grey eyes. They glanced at each other, and averted their eyes, obviously feeling as if they had intruded upon something. Nienne frowned slightly in confusion, wondering what she had done wrong to offend the Elves who were at the tail end of their 'teenage' years.

'What did I do?'

'You did nothing. They were merely embarrassed because you caught them looking'

She laughed lightly at this, and when she glanced at Arron, he too averted his gaze in the same way.

'I believe that my Arron here has found an admirer'

She flicked her gaze, and Legolas followed it. Unsurprisingly, Arron and either Elladan's or Elrohir's eyes were locked, and both had a slight blush in their pale cheeks. Nienne could not tell which son was admiring Arron for they both looked exactly alike. She gently tapped Arron's shoulder, and whispered a few phrases of their native tongue telling him to be reserved and not make a fool of himself. He nodded, and nervously made his way over to the Rivendell Elves. Elrond gave her a curious glance, and she smiled to show she meant no harm. Elrond gave an imperceptible nod, and turned to talk with this curious new young man that had approached.

Already she had met and made half-friends with several new people, and not yet said a word. She loved how so much could be said with glances. At that moment, a clear bell then rang, and Nienne's heart leapt into her throat. Legolas must have seen her looking lost, for he looped his arm through hers the way he had earlier, and they made their way to the tables.

A war of words had begun. And Nienne was looking forwards to it immensely.

AN: Sorry I haven't updated in soooo long, feel free to hate me but on the plus side, we get some character development. And Thranduil gets owned XD sorry this chapter sucks so much, but it was a bit of a struggle for me to figure out

Reviews Welcome,

Tigress in Da Room


	7. Chapter 7: The Feast

From Far Sands: Chapter 7: The Feast

Nienne felt a burst of wind-drifters settle in her stomach. She imagined their veil-like wings beating a thousand times a second inside her, filling her with nerves. She was loathed to crush them, but the jitters had to go. So she swallowed down her unease and went with the flow. Though she had appeared cool and collected, she was immensely frightened by the people here; their ways were so curious, and she could not risk looking weak despite her fears, for the sake of all Litse'noore.

She kept by Legolas' side as the various guests filtered into the hall. But the desert-glass _Mar'akh _bumped comfortingly against her thigh with each step. She recalled the meanings of the colours of each jewel as she went; Red for strength drawn from rage. Orange for courage in the face of all difficulties. And white, for wisdom and humility, balanced by mercy. Or rather, lack of. She would need all three if she was to hope to return from this night with her dignity, and entire race's reputation, intact.

She took her seat in one of the carved wooden chairs, and Legolas sat next to her. His nerves were more apparent, as his bow-arm kept twitching and his draw hand was clenching and unclenching, as if he were firing imaginary arrows into the stone floor.

Nienne remained emotionless and aloof. It kept her untouchable, and strong. The wailing flute song and whispery harp were unlike any music she had ever heard, it was rippling and quiet, reminding her of the dangerous sand-vipers that could kill even Litse'noore within moments.

To her the hall did not smell of delicate spices and steaming food. Instead, it reeked of danger and judgement and the heavy weight of expectations.

She would not fall.

As she supposed she was meant to, she took small bites from the various dishes, keeping her expressions of surprise and disgust hidden well. She felt ready to be terribly ill from all the rich flavours and foreign spices, but as a royal, held her tongue.

The meal seemed without end. Legolas seemed resigned enough, picking listlessly at his food without making any attempt to hide his unease. Nienne did not have the luxury of such open honesty however.

Almost as soon as Nienne was considering leaving, the oaken doors opened and the remnants of the various dishes were swept silently away. Nearly rising from her hard seat, she felt an iron grip around her wrist. Ruby eyes meeting Legolas' blue, she bit back her impatience and remained seated. Thankfully the prince looked equally tired.

Another group of musicians swept in, and the quiet, droning music that had drifted around the room swelled into a bolder, faster pace. With dread, she recognised the pace as one of dance music. And as she expected, pairs of elves rose from the table and began to twirl in complicated, elegant steps. Surely he couldn't be expecting her to dance a tune she had never even heard before. Across the table, Findecano's keen eyes saw Nienne's begin to glow slightly in anger, lighting her high cheekbones with pale red.

He crossed himself under the table, placing the little finger of each hand against the thumb of the other. He prayed that Nienne would hold her temper, and not do something brash.

Yet she was already concocting plans as to how she could turn this in her favour.

With a more than tired sigh, the prince rose to his feet and held his hand out for Nienne. When she grudgingly took it, her grip left light bruises around his wrist.

With desperation to appear well mannered and polite, he quickly settled one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder. Biting back a yelp of indignant surprise, she chewed her lip and let Legolas lead her in slowly twirling circles, miraculously managing not to tread on his toes.

Cool and aloof as ever, Thranduil drifted by, smirking at their obvious discomfort. And it was then that Nienne saw her chance. Saying just loud enough for the couples near them to hear she said:

"Perhaps I could show you a dance of the Litse'noore, prince. I would remember the steps much easier than this series of movements"

"Where are you going with this?" he whispered in her ear.

Smirking, she replied:

"Trust me"

As she had known they would, the elves nearby had heard her statement and were encouraging with phrases of "yes" and "please do!"

The word passed through the hall like wildfire, and soon Nienne and Legolas were standing alone in the middle of the hall, being watched by many pairs of expectant eyes. Allowing the prince his leave of the rapidly escalating situation, she said with a slightly put-on accent:

"Perhaps it would be best if my _Hest'ek_ came to be my dancer for now, until you know the movements"

Mouth set in a grim line, but curiosity sparking in his eyes, Legolas nodded and moved to the side of the hall, crossing his arms to save from fidgeting. Nienne waved Findecano over, and he murmured in quiet Litse'noore:

"_Ey'taam masraa minslep ak'tala?"_

"_What are you planning?"_

"_Inslep j'ik yu'ahra rieh mak T'aast ou Mektakeh"_

"_We are going to show them the Dance of Warriors"_

"_tii'sahaa"_

"_Very well"_

She knew he was already holding the steps in his mind, so she nodded and clasped her hand around his wrist, as he did to hers. An unspoken moment passed between them, and Nienne began her dance.

A brisk nod. Matched bows. A sweeping step forwards, then the true partnership. Findecano reached over his shoulder and drew his greatsword with a keen hiss. He took a side wards stance. The sword held tight in his hands. Nienne drew her own _Mar'akh, _which made a high, shimmering whine. Dipping low, she held the mighty sword above her head, point outwards, her other hand outstretched with two fingers extended upwards in a traditional symbol of warning. Her right leg was directly beneath her, crouched neatly, and her other was stretched ahead for balance.

In a matter of moments, Nienne's dance had gone from a simple set of steps to a dangerous duel of steel and glass. The crowd in the hall gasped when she drew her blade; the clear glass shone so brightly that it sent beams across the hall, and the three gems were so perfectly cut they appeared to be suspended in air. Only the bright bolt of light along its leading edge revealed that it was, in fact, a deathly sharp weapon.

With movements as quick as lightning, Nienne and Findecano repeatedly clashed their blades together. They spun and stepped around each other, Nienne occasionally making a spritely leap, or her _Hest'ek _a mighty spin. Their muffled footsteps and crashes of blades created their own music, with a half beat and longer drawn out notes where Nienne's blade scraped along the edge of Findecano's weaker steel.

All the while, she grinned like a cat. She was in her element, albeit twisted. As a chieftain's daughter, she was often expected to dance and twirl in pretty silks for her lords. And she was. Though it was a man's dance, a man's blade. She fought with a man's movements, and hit with a man's strength.

She would be expected to make a show. And she did. Though it was with the clash of blades rather than tempting curves. She would also have been expected to be in several beds each night, despite the fact that Litse'noore tradition states that all female elves are to be maidens until their wedding nights.

That was one thing she did refuse to do.

Nienne was worth no man.

She was a goddess of war, moving and rippling past and against the deathly sharp steel with barely a hairsbreadth of space between the steel and her throat, heart, or stomach. She did not even look to the flying blades, brightly shining blurs of danger. Her eyes darted around the crowd, searching out frightened eyes, daring them to think her weak, daring them to brand her as just another pretty little envoy.

Findecano's face was almost sad, for he thought her choice to be a rash and foolish one. Though as he was bound to, he said nothing and parried her blow for blow.

The atmosphere in the hall sparked and peaked. Gasps echoed now and then, and Nienne caught a young serving girl rush from the hall with tears of panic in her eyes. Her platter of dropped delicacies remained unnoticed on the floor.

_Good. Notice me. See that I am no child, no weakling._

_We Litse'noore are warriors, Elvenking, do well to remember that!_

And as quickly as their time-defying dance had happened, it stopped. Nienne laid the flat of her blade against Findecano's, and they both clutched their free fist behind their backs and took a tiny bow to each other, eyes closed.

With an elegant flourish, Nienne flicked her blade back through the air and into the sheath at her hip. The keen, wailing hiss it made in the air was ten times louder against the stunned silence she had left in her wake.

Completely at ease, and perhaps enjoying, the silence that had settled, Nienne took a slightly dramatic bow to the crowd around her and walked coolly and calmly from the hall. Findecano settled his greatsword between his dark shoulders once more, and also swept from the hall without a word, his pale robe swishing against the floorboards.

Before she passed through the doors hurriedly opened for her, Nienne nodded a courteous nod to Thranduil, smothering her every movement in sarcasm. A smaller, almost imperceptible movement of her head was reserved for the shocked prince.

As she passed over the boundary into the passage beyond, she barked a high, commanding note of a word in Litse'noore, and forgotten Arron nearly tripped over his gown of gold to match her striding steps.

Sandals echoed down the hallway slightly, and the crowd watched them go.

Chatter and talk erupted noisily, rudely, into the space. Thranduil arched a brow in condescension, though not without some admiration. Legolas was still in shocked silence.

So it wasn't until everyone had left the hall that he noticed fine trails of pale gold sand sprinkled across the floor. Matching perfectly the paths the two dancers had taken.

He frowned.

Who was Nienne really?

And how could he find out better?

AN: Feel free to skin me for lack of updates, but I really needed to take a step back and look at where I was going with this fic as well as Nienne's character. Hope you enjoyed

Reviews welcome,

Tigress in Da Room


	8. Chapter 8: Swift Storm

From Far Sands: Chapter 8: Swift Storm

As guests filtered from the hall, still chatting and nattering about Nienne's performance, Legolas examined the centre of the hall with care. Kneeling to the pale wooden floorboards, he ran his hand over the slats. The usually smooth wood felt rough. Frowning, he tilted his palm against the light: Fine grains of sand glittered there, winking in the torchlight.

_That's odd. Ada always keeps the halls swept: he's meticulous about it._

In a sudden burst of movement, he pushed past the few guests taking their time to leave, mumbling excuses about Spiders spotted on the Eastern border. When he was past them, he ran full pelt down the wooden-panelled hallways, shouting as he went:

"Nienne! Nienne!"

~0O0~

The Ahreyaa turned upon her heel, but then continued marching down the hallways.

"_Ahreyaa, perhaps that was not wise-"_

"_D'isaket! Bullshit, there was nothing else I could do! What did you expect? For me to twirl and laugh and be pretty?"_

"_No, I expected you to represent Litse'noore well-"_

"_Oh, so you wished for me to be plain and boring and be dismissed as weak?"_

Findecano sighed. There was no reasoning with Nienne when she was worked up: Her excitement could turn to rage in a heartbeat. He must tread carefully.

"_I understand that it is a difficult thing to do, but balance is key! What do you think the Elvenking will do now? Most likely he will order us out of the city: They probably saw the T'aast ou Mektakeh as a war threat!"_

Nienne whirled to face her Hest'ek with rage sparking in her eyes. The tall man's heart jumped in fear to see her ruby eyes quite literally sparking with lightning, shrewd cat's pupils twitching in anger. She jabbed her finger repeatedly through the thin blue fabric of his robe, each jab leaving a deepening bruise.

"I did what I could at the time, Hest'ek. Do well to remember who is bearing the weight of judgement most here"

Her words were venomous, and it took an incredible amount of control not to flinch at each poisonous spit.

He blinked his ambery eyes and dipped his head in defeat and forgiveness. It was wrong to speak so harshly to the woman he was bound by oath to protect, who he considered the younger sister he had never had. Nienne and Findecano had grown up, side by side. They were inseparable.

Upon that moment, Nienne's mood changed visibly. The lightning disappeared from her ruby orbs, only to be replaced with mischievous fires. Her cat's pupils danced in impish delight, her grin widened to show fangs that were quite prized and feared among Litse'noore women.

She grasped the taller elf's shoulders firmly and leant up close to him, movements curling with victorious delight.

"Did you see the looks on their faces though? Anyone would think they had seen a live Xykli!"

Findecano struggled to suppress his laughter, so his great black shoulders shook with mirth. Nienne relinquished her grip and twirled away from him on the points of her toes, arms spread wide. The loose end of her dress trailed like a banner of her merriment. She stopped and looked down the corridor from whence they had come and sassed her hips in a little movement of sauciness.

"Ha! I could have drawn tracings of the It'sekarri across all their faces! Turned them all to jesters!"

"Indeed, Ahreyaa. But what of the prince?"

That stopped her in her tracks. The lack of motion made her seem quite lost amongst her splendour: she would be much more comfortable in her travelling robes, with leather about her arms not pretty little bangles. Though both suited her equally well.

"I did not see him. He is most likely sending out word to be wary of us on our travels"

The thought made her frown a little. He had promised to accompany her to the _Il'yeppe Natiyaar. _Though she had not really believed he would hold out on his word.

"We will travel faster without him. We leave at dawn. Arron, come"

Now back to her usual quiet and reserved self, pupils returning to a round shape, Nienne turned on her heel and began to walk swiftly back down the hall. Arron jumped at his name and hurried after her.

It was then that she heard the heavy footsteps of someone running.

~0O0~

_Probably just a messenger_ she thought, yet she still turned round and waited for whoever it was in such a hurry. Findecano smiled wryly. He had quite a good idea of whose steps were thundering down the hall towards them. With a firm grip, he took Arron's shoulder and made them scare, even as the younger man squeaked in protest.

Nienne did not notice them both continue down the hall: she was waiting to face whatever questions were hurtling towards them.

As the steps continued to stumble towards her, she heard some strange ghost of a man wailing her name, each time getting louder and louder:

"Nienne! Nienne!"

When the Elvenking's son came barrelling round the corner, every trace of composed disdain she had settled on her face melted away. Nothing remained there except sheer surprise.

Legolas barely managed to pull himself to a halt before the princess, breath rushing lightly in and out of his chest.

"Legolas…What is wrong?" She had the sincerest form of confusion written upon her face, and more than a little worry.

"Uh…" What could he say? That she'd left sand all over the floorboards. He licked his lips and opted for something more tactful.

"What happened there…It was incredible"

Her brows twitched in what may have been irritation, but she smoothed it over and straightened up.

"Perhaps. It was necessary though"

"You are leaving tomorrow"

She looked at him sharply, but then realised her chiding of Arron had most likely not been all that quiet.

"Yes…What of it?"

"I still want to join you"

Nienne wrinkled her powdered nose in distaste and whirled away in a twirl of skirts, marching swiftly down the corridor without an answer. After a moment, he hurried after her, just about managing to match her long, swift strides.

"I would not have you taken from where you are needed-"

"I'm not needed here-the place practically runs itself!"

That was not the most of Nienne's thoughts though. The last thing she needed was the Elvenking thinking she'd kidnapped his son on top of their "war threat"

"Yes, but your father will not be best pleased if his son disappears the same day we move on"

Legolas' steps faltered slightly as he caught her meaning.

"No he won't. I'll tell him."

She stopped quite suddenly and looked at him as if he were a tiny toddler of an Elf.

"Can you even make the journey?"

He gaped at her for a moment, but then burst out in laughter. The sound was brief, but Nienne was dumbfounded. What had she said that was so funny?

"Oh Nienne…if you could see the places I have travelled, fought the enemies I have slain, perhaps you would know I am more than capable of making a short trip to the sea." He dropped his voice, now deathly serious, "I have even made my way through the ruins of Moria and lived"

She suppressed a shiver. Everything about the name, albeit foreign, reeked of danger and things that should be left well alone.

"Never mind. You are to meet us by the Western gate at dawn. Do not be late"

And she strode off once more, leaving Legolas to the corridor filled with the sounds of his own heavy breaths. She had such a talent for disappearing without warning.

~0O0~

Nienne ran quickly and lightly down the steps, dress tail fluttering behind her as her slippers clicked neatly on the stone steps. Findecano loomed suddenly from the shadow of a column, though she continued onwards as he stepped lightly next to her. Arron picked his way down more carefully behind.

"Well…what did he want?"

"To not be left behind"

"And?"

"He meets us at the Western Gate next morn. If he is not there though, we are to leave without him."

"You do not want him to return with us do you?"

"To Il'yeppe Naata? No. He would not be able to brave the heat."

"You must return sometime, Ahreyaa"

She sighed. Such a curse was her blessing that she could not leave the heat of her dessert for long. Already, she could feel her strength sapped by the distance between here and the border of her homeland. She longed for the silent song of the drifting sands, the heat that beat down like a hammer upon an anvil.

But she had set out to see the desert that lay just within reach, the one made from an endless water as far as the eye could see.

"I know that, Fin. But I must make this journey, even if I stay for only a minute there. Besides, I doubt he would travel across the world with us, back to a land he would only know as fire."

Findecano remained silent, but he doubted Nienne's pessimism towards the young prince.

Though whether he liked it or not, he was leaving the next day and each step would take them further and further from the safety of Il'yeppe Naata's sands.

**AN: Sorry for the inconsistent updates guys, but I'm really struggling to keep interested in my fanfics because of other things going on. Going to work off the basis of not posting another chapter until I get a review because otherwise I can't see the point in continuing writing on here at all. Also, updates will continue to be sporadic for this reason purely because my motivation for all my fics is slowly seeping away.**

Reviews Requested,

Tigress in Da Room


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